Terms of Endearment
by Emily Waters
Summary: Humor . The war is over, Snape is on trial, and Harry finds himself being the character witness for his least favorite teacher.


**Terms of Endearment**

Six months after the war, the trials finally began.

Finding himself at the entrance to the Wizengamot, Harry Potter sighed deeply. Throughout his school years, he'd never envisioned that he'd have to be the one to testify in order to get Severus Snape out of trouble.

The one to kill him, maybe.

The one to sigh in relief when the sodding git died, suffocating in his own bile, quite likely.

The one to.... save him.... no. Just no.

Next to Harry, Hermione was looking solemn and serious.

"Harry, remember, you're a character witness!" she not-quite-whispered.

A dozen feet away from them, Snape's face turned slightly paler. The man made a strange gesture with his right hand, and whispered something under his breath that sounded like _Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum... _Harry wondered if it was a wandless spell of some sort, and if it was dangerous.

"Remember!" Hermione hissed at him. _Fuck_.

"Yes, thank you, Hermione, maybe you should write it down on a cue card for me," Harry said dryly. "Oh, and also write down for me whether I'm supposed to be defending him, or putting him away for the good of society. I keep forgetting."

She pursed her lips and gave him a very stern look that clearly said, _If you allow your personal feelings to cloud your testimony and fail to rescue Severus Snape, I will lose all respect for you._ At least Harry thought the look said something along those lines.

"Harry Potter!" The Chief Warlock called out. "Take the stand please."

Harry sighed slightly and walked towards the stand.

"Look," Harry said before someone even had a chance to ask him any questions, "this is bloody ridiculous. You have proof that Snape was working for our side. For example..."

"We know," the Chief Warlock said quickly. "This isn't about the death of Albus Dumbledore, or Mr. Snape's Death Eater activities. Those charges have been dropped."

"Huh?" Harry felt the dreadful fog of confusion permeate his mind. It wasn't a good feeling. It reminded him of being in Snape's classroom.

"Simply put, Mr. Snape is on trial for emotionally and verbally abusing his students."

Harry's jaw dropped.

An inner voice, bearing a striking similarity to that of Sirius Black, screamed in triumph, YESSS! FINALLY!!!

Another, nobler part of Harry, that sounded suspiciously like Albus Dumbledore, pointed out that the man who had been risking his life for over a decade to save them all, shouldn't be punished for being unpleasant while doing so.

"And I'm … er... the character witness for this?" Harry clarified.

"Yes. We thought you'd be the best person to ask."

"Huh. So what's going to happen if you decide he was... er... abusive?"

"He'll be placed in a life-long indentured servitude to you."

"He'll be my slave for life?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

Harry rubbed his chin. "Isn't that a little... unusual?"

"Not really," the Chief Warlock said. "In fact, it happens all the time."

"Oh." Harry sighed deeply. "Well, all right," Harry said. "He wasn't emotionally or verbally abusive. He was... a wonderful teacher." He nearly choked at the words.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Harry made a move to get off the stand, but the man's raised hand stopped him.

"Let's see. Did Professor Snape harass you in your first Potions class, by singling you out, as, and I quote, _our new celebrity_?"

_Fuck._

"He did say that," Harry said, "but it wasn't malicious you know? It was clearly a term of endearment. And I loved it. You know, I love attention."

"Hmmm. So you weren't traumatized?"

"Not at all," Harry said smoothly. "It was the kind of thing that instantly made me like him."

Snape glanced at him, looking slightly shocked.

"Did Professor Snape threaten to poison Neville Longbottom's pet?"

Harry swore under his breath. There was just no way to deny this one. Not with that many witnesses. "Yes, he did. It wasn't a threat though. It was an … offer of … mercy... euthanasia. The toad kept hopping from desk to desk, cauldron to cauldron, and it was only a matter of time until it died in some gruesome, traumatic, horrible way. So really... it was a kind offer, in retrospect."

The questioning moved along, thankfully. "Did Professor Snape make you skin Mr. Malfoy's shrivelfig for him in class?"

"Yes," Harry said softy, "but that was for my own good. He just wanted to be sure I had more practice than Malfoy, you know, because he knew that I had to be fighting the Dark Lord, and … er... skinning shrivelfigs is a valuable skill to have in battle."

"How so?"

"Don't question me!" Harry snapped. "I'm the one who defeated Voldemort, and I'm telling you, that I couldn't have done it without that skill."

"Did Professor Snape embarrass you in public by reading a malicious newspaper article about you to the entire class?"

Harry winced, remembering the humiliation of that day. For a second, he was tempted to say something along the lines of,_ yes, he did,_ but he could feel Hermione's gaze on the back of his head, and Harry said softly, "He did read the article. But he was making fun of the article, not me. It was a show of solidarity. You know. He was letting me know he understands how I feel."

"An odd way to do it, Harry."

"Well, maybe, but it worked. I had never felt so … encouraged," Harry said firmly, hoping this was really the last of it.

"Let's move along. During your Occlumency lessons, wasn't he cruel to you?"

"What? No! He was an amazing instructor," Harry said quickly, making a desperate attempt to block out the rage at the memory of those lessons.

Snape's mouth opened wide in shock.

"Then why did you suspect he was working for Voldemort?"

"I didn't!" Harry protested. "I never questioned his loyalty."

Snape covered his mouth with his hand, looking slightly faint.

"Then why did you view his Pensieve while he was gone?"

"I thought... maybe he was trying to protect me from harm," Harry improvised quickly. "So er... I looked. Because I'm brave like that."

"And discovered the memory of Professor Snape being mistreated by your own father and your godfather. Wasn't he enraged when he found out you had looked into his Pensieve? Did he not become physically abusive, grabbing you by the arm first, and throwing a jar of dead cockroaches at you?"

Harry shuddered slightly, remembering the incident. _Fuck Snape_, he thought. Snape really was an arsehole. Maybe the man should really be his slave.

Somewhere behind him, Hermione coughed meaningfully.

Harry issued a sigh of resignation.

"I don't know where you heard that story, but that's just not true. Professor Snape held me up when I was about to faint. Then, he made me a cup of tea and told me that he wasn't blaming me for my father's and my godfather's bad behavior, and I shouldn't blame myself either. He also said that my father was a good man, and so was Sirius Black, and I shouldn't let one bad incident sour my opinion of them."

Confused whispers were heard throughout the courtroom. Snape issued a strangled, choked sound, as if something got stuck in his throat, and was fighting to get out. Whatever it was, however, Snape swallowed hard, and apparently, managed to push it down.

"Professor Snape said that?" The Chief Warlock asked cautiously.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then why did you emerge from his dungeons covered in dead cockroaches?"

Harry blinked. He wasn't ready for that.

"I must have walked into a swarm of them on my way to my dorm."

"You walked into a swarm of flying cockroaches? In Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Why were they dead then, when you arrived to the Gryffindor common room?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a powerful wizard," he said meaningfully. "I can't help my own power. If something dies after attacking me, so be it."

"All right. Let's move along. Your sixth year at Hogwarts. What did Professor Snape do, when he saw you after your nose had been broken by Draco Malfoy?"

"Huh." Harry shut his eyes. That really was his worst memory of Snape. Who knows, maybe twenty years from now, he'd be hiding that memory in a Pensieve, while trying to teach Occlumency to Snape's kids.

"Did Professor Snape humiliate Nymphadora Tonks in front of you, by berating her new Patronus?"

_Forgive me, Tonks,_ Harry thought bitterly._ I'm doing this to repay a life-debt._

"He didn't," Harry said. It didn't even feel like a lie anymore.

"What did Professor Snape say?"

"He said, _Tonks, I can't tell if your new Patronus represents Sirius, or Remus, but either way, I like it. It's unusually powerful, and it speaks volumes for your loyalty_."

Harry cast a cautious glance at Snape, and saw that the man's face was buried in his hands. He was shaking slightly. Harry couldn't tell if Snape was laughing or crying.

"What was Professor Snape's response to your obvious injury?"

_He nearly fucking ripped my head off, that's what!_ Harry thought.

"Oh you know, my injury had already been healed by then, by Tonks, but still, he fussed over me, offered healing potions, medical attention, but I insisted I was fine. I didn't even want to wash my face. He may have been irritated a little that I declined his help, and insisted on proceeding ahead in such a messed-up state. But really, he did his best to support me. He always had."

Someone issued a brief, nervous laugh.

"Well, all right. This is... unexpected."

Harry shut his eyes tightly. Something was wrong. He could sense it. He did his best, but that wasn't enough.

"Harry," another member of the Wizengamot inquired cautiously, "are you giving this testimony of your own free will?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Are you being coerced in any way?"

"No."

"You aren't under Imperius, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said sharply. "Nobody can put me under Imperius."

"Right... well, maybe you're suffering from Stockholm's Syndrome? You know, sympathizing with someone who's abusing you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Well, if you ever rethink your testimony, or decide to change it, or think of something else that you may have forgotten or repressed...."

Harry sighed deeply, and decided to put an end to this once and for all.

"I'm giving this testimony of my own free will. Nobody is coercing me. I'm not mentally ill, either. Professor Snape is a compassionate and fair teacher. He teaches through encouragement and building of students' self-esteem. You know, you mightn't believe it, but back in the Shrieking Shack, while nearly bleeding to death, he..." _fuck, fuck, fuck_, "he told me that I'd been very brave, and my parents would have been proud of me. That he was proud to know me. He also said to tell Hermione he was amazed by her intellect, and to tell Ron his … ah, capacity for loyalty and friendship was... a ..." _shit, shit, shit_, "credit to the House of Gryffindor."

"He said all that with an arterial wound in his throat?" The Chief Warlock asked, clearly skeptical.

"Yes. Such was his determination," Harry said. "He'd do anything for his students."

"Awwww," someone said in a very sentimental tone of voice. "That's amazing."

"Yes, isn't it?" someone else said.

Someone took a picture of Snape, who looked like he had given up on figuring out what was real, and what wasn't.

"We were wrong about Professor Snape, it seems," the Chief Warlock mused. "Very well, Mr. Snape, you are free to go with our apologies. Clearly your teaching methods are … exceptionally effective, and … praiseworthy, so please, keep doing exactly what you've been dong so far."

Snape got up and left quickly, without even as much as glancing at anyone. But Harry thought he saw the slightest blush color the man's cheeks. Which made him look kind of... attractive, in a strange way.

~ * ~

Two weeks later, Harry was still feeling weirded out. He felt... Well, fuck. He didn't know how he felt. Truth be told, just out of the blue, he started fantasizing about Snape as his slave. He didn't regret his testimony but... the fantasy persisted.

How did _that_ happen?

Maybe Dumbledore was right. If you defend someone, you become attached to them. Or something like that.

~ * ~

Harry stood by the door to the Potions classroom and listened in silence. Snape's rich, cultured voice was spitting insults at his students.

A Gryffindor girl ran out of the classroom and bumped into Harry. Her face was streaked with tears.

"What happened?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"He said I was stupid, and hopeless, just like my mother, who should have never finished school! And he took … t-t-ten points from G-Gryffindor, because I dropped my wand into my cauldron and it dissolved!" the girl wailed pitifully.

Harry covered his mouth. He knew he should be pitying the girl, but how daft can one be to drop a wand into the cauldron? Suddenly, he sympathized with Snape.

"Run along," Harry said. "I'll talk to Professor Snape about being... nicer."

She stared up at him with a mixture of dread and hope.

"Be careful," she whispered. "He's very dangerous."

"Don't worry," Harry whispered back. "So am I."

Harry waited for the students to leave the classroom one by one. When Snape was left alone, Harry walked in and cornered him.

"Potter," Snape said in what, for him, undoubtedly passed as a neutral tone. It was more like a compromise between a snarl and a hiss. A very sexy snarl, and a very alluring hiss, Harry noted absent-mindedly.

"Snape."

"What do you want?"

"Wrong question," Harry said softly, pulling himself up to sit on Snape's desk. "The right question is, what do _you_ want?"

"I want you to get off my desk this instant."

"Really, Snape, with all the drama we've been through, I kind of expected you to... mellow out. You know. Be kinder to the Gryffindors. Stop berating the children. "

Snape stared at him without blinking.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because witnessing you abuse the young Gryffindors might trigger some painful memories for me," Harry said in a soft, pleasant voice. "I might suddenly recall something... traumatic. Alter my testimony. Could get you into a lot of trouble."

Snape was staring at him. Without flinching. "And?"

"You'd be my slave," Harry pointed out ruthlessly.

Snape was still staring at him. In a rather unnerving way. "And?"

Harry blushed slightly. "And. Well. The way you obstinately continue with the same behavior that nearly ended in such a horrible situation for you... One might think you're just asking for trouble. "

Snape's expression never changed. Except the corner of his lip traveled slightly upwards, to create a faint smirk. "Yes," he mused. "One might think that."

"You're just a miserable kinky wretch, aren't you?" Harry asked.

"Hmm."

"Tell you what," Harry said firmly, "You be nicer to Gryffindors, and I'll play out your sick, depraved fantasy. I'll let you be my slave."

Snape's smirk grew. "You realize, you're blushing, Potter."

"So are you."

For a second they stared at each other with a mixture of amusement, hostility, embarrassment... and something _else_. Harry decided to put an end to the awkward situation by lowering his face to the Professor's and kissing him. The kiss was wonderful, filled with promise of angry passion born out of years of bitter misunderstandings and pointless hostility. And the best part about it was that it just seemed to go on and on, forever.

Someone quietly giggled and they pulled back from the kiss at once. The Gryffindor girl, the one Harry had spoken to earlier, stood in the doorway, staring at them shamelessly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Harry and Snape said in unison.

The child fled instantly.

"I suppose that makes it twenty points," Harry mused.

"I'm impressed," Snape said in a serious tone of voice.

"...That I could be this cruel to an innocent child?" Harry asked, feeling a little smug about impressing Snape.

"What? No, Potter. I'm impressed that you can add."

**~ Fin.**


End file.
